Valhalla

by Jennifer Willis

  * * *

  Moving as quickly as they dared between the young trees, the gods—and Rod—followed the ravens as they headed farther into the stand. Heimdall kept an eye on the black birds flying against the ink-colored sky above, noting that the pair several times circled back to give the gods time to catch up with them on foot. After nearly a half-hour, the ravens swooped down and disappeared into the trees.

  Heimdall rushed forward, not wanting to lose them. He dodged between the young trees, looking everywhere for the birds. Then he spotted the ravens up ahead, two black shapes sitting contentedly in the dark on the tender branch of a nearly six-foot-tall White Oak sapling.

  “I really hope you’re showing us the Tree, and not leading us on a wild chase through the woods,” Heimdall whispered as the others jogged up behind him. The ravens crouched low on the branch and eyed Heimdall across the distance, then made a soft clucking sound deep in their throats.

  Heimdall felt he was being urged forward. “Huginn and Muninn?” he whispered as he took a few tentative steps toward them.

  The ravens bobbed up and down on the branch and cawed softly.

  Heimdall’s face broke into a huge smile, and he looked over his shoulder at his kin. “Odin’s ravens!” He pointed excitedly at the pair of birds and laughed. “Something of the Old Magick still remains.”

  “Huginn and Muninn.” Freya shook her head in disbelief.

  Out of breath, Rod stepped up beside Heimdall. He was still clutching his sides. “Are those really Odin’s ravens?”

  Eyes shining bright in the dark, Heimdall shook his head. “Who knows? Those two took off long ago, just after we set sail for the New World. But these friends may just have led us the rest of the way to the Tree.”

  Rod let out what started as a satisfied sigh but ended in a whimper of pain. Heimdall noticed how awkwardly he was standing, leaning to one side with both hands pressed against his ribs.

  “Rod, we need to get you to a doctor.”

  “Later.” Rod nodded toward the ravens, who started calling more fervently. “The Yggdrasil first.”

  Heimdall smiled. Maybe Frigga hadn’t done so badly in hiring this mortal. “You’re a good man.”

  Heimdall felt the tingling rush of adrenaline in his chest as he moved toward the sapling. The ravens grew more excited and squawked louder with every step he took. He soon felt Freya walking by his side. “I think…”

  “Yes,” she agreed in a hoarse whisper.

  When they got close enough to touch the young White Oak, Heimdall and Freya both laid their hands carefully on the slender trunk. After a few seconds, Freya collapsed onto her knees and started to cry.

  Heimdall heard Rod swear behind him. “You mean, this one isn’t it, either?”

  Heimdall felt his own tears trickle down his cheeks. “No.” He caressed the bark beneath his hands and bowed his head. “This is the Yggdrasil.” Now eye-level with the ravens, he looked at the birds and nodded. “Thank you,” he whispered.

  The ravens croaked and flitted up to a higher branch.

  Freya pressed her palms flat against the roots, her face beaming as she cooed soft lullabies. Saga and Freyr stood behind her and smiled in the starlight.

  Heimdall sighed. “Too young to fend for itself. Too old to be moved.”

  Freya abruptly stopped singing and looked up wide-eyed at him.

  “Don’t worry. We’re not going to try to uproot it.” Heimdall looked around at the other trees. Of course, the one they’d been searching for would be pretty much dead center in the stand—giving the Yggdrasil something of a buffer, and making it more difficult to locate.

  “But this is logging country.” Heimdall pulled out his cell phone and bluetooth headset. “The Tree couldn’t have picked a worse spot to hide from the timber industry.”

  Freyr whistled. “So even if we head off Managarm . . .”

  “. . . We still might have chain saws to contend with.” Saga pulled out her own cell phone and started dialing.

  “Yeah, Frank. I’ve got something.” Heimdall listened to the voice on the other end and winced. He checked his watch. 3:02 a.m. “Hey, sorry, I didn’t realize it was so early.” He stepped away from the Tree and studied the star patterns overhead. Just two more days to go. “Yeah, I couldn’t sleep, so I headed out with Laika.”

  At the sound of her name, the wolf-dog trotted over and offered Heimdall one end of the stick she had in her mouth. Heimdall grabbed it, and Laika’s jaws tightened. She growled and wagged her tail, trying to rip the stick away from him. Heimdall let go, and Laika danced around him, taunting him with her prize.

  “Listen, I’ve found another campsite.” He heard Freyr behind him protest the lie, but Heimdall held up his hand for silence. “Yeah. No equipment or anything. Just some marks and trails, and some charred earth.” Heimdall knew that would push some buttons, and he winced as his supervisor let fly a string of expletives. “Right. A couple different places around that new growth of Oregon White Oaks. Might be more than a single individual. I’ll text you the coordinates . . . Yeah. Gotcha.”

  Heimdall turned back toward the Yggdrasil as he tapped the side of his earpiece to disconnect the call. Laika dropped into a play bow in front of him and growled.

  “Are you insane?” Freyr stormed toward him, but stopped at a safe distance. Heimdall could tell his cousin was trying hard not to re-ignite their previous altercation. “You’re calling in the Forest Service? To the site of the Yggdrasil?”

  “Give me some credit, will you?” Heimdall punched a series of numbers into his phone. “I’m not giving them the exact location. Just setting it up so there will be patrols in the general vicinity.”

  Freyr paused and looked at the Tree. “Okay.”

  “So anyone looking for the Tree, like Managarm, will have a harder time getting to it,” Freya sang to the same melody she’d been humming.

  Heimdall hit SEND on his phone and slipped it back into his pocket. “And now, as far as my job is concerned, I’ve got more of an excuse to hang out here. Protecting the Yggdrasil and getting paid for it.”

  Freyr smirked. “Frigga will like that.”

  Saga snapped her phone shut. “Okay, so, first off, Odin says good work on finding the Tree. Second, we need to get back to Portland.”

  Heimdall looked at her and frowned. “Excuse me?”

  Saga shrugged and shoved her phone back into her jacket pocket. “Sorry. I need to get back to Portland, pronto. Odin’s orders. Wants me to check the bookstore records, to see if maybe Managarm or anyone else has been coming in looking for books on Norse magick. It’s a long shot but  . . . You going to drive me, or do I need to spontaneously sprout wings or something?”

  Both ravens shifted back and forth on their feet on the upper branch and cawed unpleasantly. Saga looked up at them. “No offense.”

  Freya patted Heimdall’s ankle. “I will remain with the Tree until you return.”

  Heimdall nodded. “I’ll leave Laika with you.”

  Tail high in the air, the wolf-dog danced beside him, barking through clenched jaws while still brandishing her stick. Heimdall feinted a move toward her, and she sprang away with a playful yip. Freya reached out to try to grab Laika, but the dog dodged out of her way. Laika tossed the stick into the air, then leapt up and caught it. Landing with clumsy-puppy grace, she pinned the stick against the ground with one foot and growled viciously as she gnawed at it.

  Heimdall laughed. “For entertainment.”

  Saga tugged on his elbow. Heimdall started the long walk back to the car, with Freyr and Saga assisting the injured Rod. While Laika continued to play in haphazard circles around her, Freya closed her eyes and resumed her singing.